Awa Gaye, Looking for Flowers

Don’t ask me where I’m from with the hopes that my tongue lands on one concrete answer. I’m from countries that have molded itself within my body. I’m from people yet to meet, from languages yet to be heard. I’m from spaces I’ve left, places I’ve outgrown, people I’ve loved. I’m a bit from the sky and a bit from the earth. I’m from eyes that sparkle and smiles that light up when they meet mine. I am from scents and flavors welcoming me home. I’m from past pains, historical hurt and colonial curses. I’m from stranded tides and floating dreams. I’m from one take off and one landing away. I’m from longing to belong, from the unknown transforming into the known. I am from you, and me. 

Ask me where I’m from, but do not wish for one concrete answer.